


Claimed

by ibelongtonegan



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Coercion, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Smut, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26327785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelongtonegan/pseuds/ibelongtonegan
Summary: It is time for Negan to pay for his sins, but in the end, he is not the one to atone…
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	Claimed

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my entry for @ne-gans’ ‘how sinful can you be?’ Tumblr challenge. My prompt was “Wrath - Inexplicable and uncontrolled feelings of hatred and anger". Keeping the 1K word limit was a challenge at first, but it also made writing a lot of fun at the same time, and since I’m a good girl for Daddy Negan, the fic ended up being exactly 1,000 words long.

You sneak along the dim corridor, stopping at every corner to glance back over your shoulder. The Sanctuary is quiet at this hour, the workers are fast asleep already with only a few hours left until dawn and another hard day of work, while the Saviors are busy celebrating Simon’s birthday in the rec room.

You reach your destination and turn the doorknob carefully. The room is plunged into darkness, except for the soft circle of light from the desk lamp. Tiptoeing to the four-poster bed you take a deep breath to calm your frantic heartbeat. Tightening your grip around the knife you part the curtain with a trembling hand, only to realize that the bed is empty, the covers untouched. 

“Looking for someone?”

You spin around on your heels but have no chance to attack as Negan snatches the knife from your hand and tosses it on the floor. Grabbing you by the neck he throws you down on the mattress, straddling you with his thighs. 

“I knew Rick was going to send an assassin, but I didn’t think it would be a gal!” he growls, his eyes black with fury.

“I volunteered,” you spit. “I convinced him that a woman would have a better chance at infiltrating the Sanctuary and gaining your trust, and it worked!”

Negan’s lips curl up into a smug smirk. 

“And what would Rick say if he knew that I slid my dick down his daughter’s throat and she thanked me for it? How would he feel about his baby girl calling me Daddy now?” 

You look at him wide-eyed, unable to make a sound. 

“I knew about you all along and enjoyed using you as I saw fit.”

His revelation gives you a rush of adrenaline and the strength to untangle yourself from his hold. You slap him, hard, and the impact makes his head snap to the side and his expression turn murderous.

“It was just a ploy!” you assert.

“Oh, really? So, if I slide my fingers inside your pussy now, you will not be dripping for me, desperate to be filled by my dick?”

He leaves you no time to deny him as his mouth crashes down on yours with an insatiable hunger, taking your breath away. You bite down on his lip in protest, feeling the coppery taste of blood on your tongue but it only fuels his passion. He yanks down your shorts and slips his fingers inside your panties, a triumphant groan escaping him as he finds the evidence of your arousal, your treacherous body surrendering to his charms. Soon his fingers are replaced by his cock, stretching you wide with a delicious tension and filling you up completely. 

You lose track of time as he ravages you, staking his claim on you with unrelenting stamina, keeping you teetering on the precipice of an orgasm but never allowing you to tip over the edge. This is your punishment for thinking that you can deceive him, and his reminder on who you and your pleasure belong to, and you let him mark and bruise, twist and bend your body to his will.

Then he changes tact and makes it his mission to coax as many orgasms from you as possible, ripping moan after moan from your throat. He traces every inch and worships every curve as he inhales your scent, laps up your juices, and sucks on your skin. His stubble prickles deliciously and the beard burn will have you tingling all over the next morning, but you could not care less. Time and space become fluid as you battle for dominance and he makes you succumb to him again and again, rewarding every victory with another climax. 

He growls various obscenities into your ear, the lewd expletives rolling off his tongue like a rich bourbon and you listen entranced, drunk on his words. Coming from anybody else they would make your blood boil, from him they make you arch your back deeper, clench your pussy around him tighter, and dig your heels into his back harder.

An unknown amount of time later he stands still inside you and sits back on his heels. Grabbing himself at the base, he starts twitching and spurting stream after stream of cum against your walls. He does not withdraw, savoring the warmth of your pussy enveloping him, bottling up your combined juices inside you. The last thing you remember is him praising you for being his perfect little cock slut as you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

× × × × ×

You stir awake as the first light of the sun bathes the room in an orange hue. You are too tired to open your eyes and too sore to stretch your aching limbs, when you hear clothes shuffling and the familiar clink of a belt buckle. You sense a flash of light behind close eyelids and squint up to see Negan sporting a Polaroid camera in hand and a Cheshire cat grin on his face, marveling at the mess he made on your body.

“Damn, this little souvenir will sure as shit burn a hole in my pocket when I pay a visit to Daddy today,” he licks his lips and tucks the photo away in his black leather jacket. “Would you like me to pass on a message to him?”

Anger bubbles in your chest, and you struggle to contain it. He watches your torment with glee, silently challenging you to defy him, but you flinch under his scrutiny. Placing a peck on your forehead he grabs Lucille and is out the door, whistling a merry tune as his footsteps fade away on the corridor, leaving you alone with the scent of his cologne lingering in your nose and the stab of guilt in your chest. You want to hate him, you have tried to hate him, but keep failing at it. You sold your soul to the devil, and Negan will keep collecting on your debt as long as he likes.


End file.
